


Bride market

by cherrygoldlove



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Fingering, Forced Marriage, Implied Mpreg, Kate is Allison's sister in this, M/M, Objectification, Original Character(s), Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Lubrication, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Slight Overstimulation, Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski, aristocrat Derek, future-implied Stockholm Syndrome, non evil Kate, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2018-03-15 20:59:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3461813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrygoldlove/pseuds/cherrygoldlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Market happened once a year in spring, on the first new moon of April.<br/>And this year Stiles have just turned sixteen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Read an article in daily mail and my muse flared up!  
> not beta'd.

The market happened once a year in spring, on the first new moon of April. 

Some said it was done so, so the moon would not have to witness all that took place on this festival, if one was so daring to call it that.

Every eligible girl and every boy that was able to carry children, once they turned sixteen was obligated to take part in it.

The festival, popularly called the Bride marked, took place in the open fields on the outskirts of Beacon Hills. People organized long tables and filled them with foods and drinks, spiced wines and beers were flowing freely.

Stiles turned sixteen exactly a month before the festival and with burning cheeks accepted the traditional gift of a polished smooth, wooden, penis-shaped toy and a bottle of unscented oil among pieces of jewelry – copper chain bracelets, rings and soft, black, leather collar with chains hanging from it in elaborate, complicated coils. All accompanied with a floor length skirt made from four panels. The front one was an almost sheer one, made slightly opaque only by the amount of layers. It would show that he was indeed a boy, rising up in a swell around his genitals. Those would be held in a thick and constricting pouch, not allowing an unwanted by the potential husbands erection to happen. 

The other two panels would be situated on the sides, covering legs and holding the symbols of the brides station and his or hers talents and skills. Stiles’ father, the local law authority had a hard time coming with suitable symbols to put on his son’s skirt. The boy was bright and intelligent but lacked all skills considered desirable for a bride. He could not sing, his embroidery was just plain awful and no one please ever allow him to dance in public. The boy severely lacked coordination. 

Thankfully he could cook pretty well and could read and organize a household. And he had the sought after looks – big hazelnut eyes surrounded by ebony lashes and wide, pink and lush mouth. His peach-cream skin was covered by a splatter of honey-colored freckles, a potential turn-off for some husbands, but Stiles’ father hoped that they would be to entranced by his boy’s slim physique and slightly rounded hips – a sign of a bearing male – to care too much about that.

And Stiles hoped he’ll have at least one more year to try, and add something more to his side-panels, maybe try and take gardening classes? Some painting skills? 

He really hoped he won’t have the rear panel of his skirt lifted this year. 

It was as heavy as the side ones, and sewn from many layers of fabric. It was a deep green color, complicated patterns embroidered on it in gold thread – a sign of a bride presented for the first time.

Reaching further into his present box Stiles found a sheer, flowing blouse, something he can wear under all that jewelry, cover his skin more. He’s very thankful for that, not all parents grant that extra cover. He knows it’s more to cover the freckles, make them hard to notice under the flowing material, but still, he feels better having it.

He talked to his father about the festival and was assured that yes, Stiles had to go and be shown around but no contract would be made this year. It was made clear that the promise was not exactly granted for Stiles peace of mind, and more in terms that it would be hard to find him a suitable husband, despite him being the son of local officer of the law. The boy didn't even have an admirer all those years of childhood crushes and games.

Still, Stiles was grateful for that concession. 

He prepared accordingly though, each night laying down on a thick towel laid on the bed and fingering his hole open, until two days before the market he could fit the toy he was given inside his channel. 

He would have to go with it nestled inside his body to the festival. 

It was embarrassing and really hard to manage. He actually wished to have been a girl and not a bearing boy. Walking and keeping it from falling out was not an easy thing to do. There was a soft swelling at the base, helping it lodge inside, but still, the long, foreign object nudging inside him with every step he took made for a miserable and exhausting experience. It all was made even worse with the knowledge that yes, it did happen that a toy just slipped out in the middle of the field, and Stiles was terrified that it would happen to him…

 

*o0o*

 

It was even worse that Stiles has anticipated.  
The evening started well, people walking around them, some even complimenting Stiles and offering him sweet cakes. None asked about his dowry, though, just as his father anticipated.

He met with some friends, walked around the many stalls with food and trinkets making small, deliberate steps clenching his butt cheeks tight, and laughed delicately at a performing clown.

Soon the festival was coming to an end, brides whisked away to complete contracts to the small stalls set all around the field. Stiles felt sad for them hearing some pained gasps.

He really didn't understand this custom, why the Bride should be taken right then and there, in a place the size of a big closet, heavily covered with rugs and blankets. There was not even a bed there, just a padded high table to bend over. One more year, and that could be him, he thought sadly.

He looked around and searched for his father, soon finding him standing a little bit away from the remaining crowd. He was talking to a tall stranger, and Stiles felt his heart freeze. 

He didn't know for sure, there was just this… this feeling of panic. The contract. His father will sign a contract with the stranger.

New alliances didn't need a skilled or pretty Bride, they just needed the will of the communities. 

He was petrified the moment his father noticed him and called him over with an impatient wave of his hand. Then the stranger turned around, also looking for him in the crowd.

His breath was rapid and shallow, but he followed his father’s command soon standing by his side.

“Derek, this is my son, Stiles, I hope he suits your tastes.”

Stiles curtsied when the strangers eyes turned on him, appraising his body from head to toe. 

“He’s exquisite, John. It’ll be my pleasure to wed him.”

It was all his worst fears coming to life. He was trembling now, mouth dry.

“F-Father…?”

“Stiles, it’s my deep honor to wed you this day to sir Derek Hale of Triskele. I’m sure you heard about their clan and city. You’ll be a perfect addition to this grand family.”

And just like that, Stiles’ was sold. 

The stranger, Derek, took him by his elbow and led to one of the nearby stalls.

He was ushered first into the small interior and pushed face first onto the padded table, elbows hitting the soft surface. He never seen one, and hoped to never see one ever, but here he was – bent over and held down by his neck as the man behind him loosened his breeches. 

But he wasn't struggling, there was no reason too. If he fought, if he ran, he would be quickly caught, tied up in the middle of the field and took publicly. It was better so suffer through this hidden from the gaze of his townspeople. 

The man seeing his meekness let go of his neck, both hands going to the rear panel of his skirt and lifting it up. Warm hands fondled his buttock, kneading them, softly spreading apart as fingers danced on his cleft, rubbing around where the wooden toy rested. 

He felt a delicate tugging so he tried to relax his muscles as best as he could, allowing the stranger to pull the object out, leaving his hole gaping open. The man’s thumb moving in circles over it, slowly sliding to his taint, caressing it.

And then he felt it – hot, blunt cock head was pushing at his rim, slowly slipping inside. The man didn't waste time, slowly thrusting he gained inch after inch of depth making Stiles whine and keen loudly when the thick length was finally fully embed in his constricting channel.

It didn't exactly hurt, he was wet end stretched but he was stressed, nervous, all muscles tightly drawn and the man was slightly thicker than the toy, not to mention longer, going places inside Stiles that was never before touched. 

He bore down, trying to accommodate to the intrusion the best he could, giving shaky breaths , air moistening his tightly curled fists resting against his mouth.

Then the man started to thrust, first shallowly but soon increasing in depth and strength making all of Stiles’ body shake and shudder, moving across the padded bench. His arms were no longer holding him up but sliding down, to the edge of the table to not let his hips hit the side painfully, his cheek squashed against the soft top surface, mouth open, drooling.

His legs were trembling do hard from trying to lift up on his toes to try and get just a little bit away from the brutal pace and failing miserably.

Stiles squeezed his eyes tight after a particularly vicious trust, a slight scream forced out of his open mouth. 

The stranger’s groans and that wet, squeaking and slapping dirty noise coming from behind made the boy weep even harder. He was crying before, he didn't know when he started really, but those noises, made something more break in him. That was his future now, that man behind his back would be there always now, dictating his every move and ruling over his body.

And even the rapid tempo of the trust and hard fingers dipping into his hips signaling that the man was close to finish didn't make him feel any better.

And soon, as Stiles predicted the penis inside him stilled, pushed impossibly deep and filling him with hot wetness.

The deed was done, the contract signed.

He winced slightly when the man’s cock slipped out of him, feeling his essence dripping out soon after. 

He could hear the stranger right his own clothes, and then lower the panel of Stiles’ skirt down too.

He was guided upwards and cradled into the man’s chest, a soft kiss placed on top of his short shorn hair.

“You did very good Stiles, come, I’ll take you home now.”

Home? Stiles thought, he’ll never again be allowed to go Home. The stranger, Derek, will take him to his own house now, somewhere far away and he’ll never come back here again. He’ll be lucky if he’ll see his father twice a year. His friends…!

He felt new tears gather in his eyes, a tear stained sob leaving his mouth. The man just held him closer, a thumb whipping away under one eye, soon coming back with a cloth, wiping his runny nose and all the drool around his mouth.

It was weird, so, so weird to be coddled so by this man that just violated his body, that will whisk him away from all that he’s ever knew. But he cuddled closer, fingers going up to tangle in the rich clothing the man wore, some part of him needing the affection after all that happened.

The arm wrapped around his shoulders tightened softly, the hand moving under his elbow, holding him close and supporting as he was guided outside of the little tent and towards his new future…


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for all your amazing comments and constructive criticism!  
> I know this story has it's mistakes, I try my best to make it perfect and once I'll be able to take time and locate a good beta I'll make this story even better :)  
> If you catch something really offensive in grammar/spelling/etc. please let me know!
> 
> Hope you'll enjoy this chapter!

Surprisingly the man, Derek, did take Stiles back to Stiles’ childhood home.

It was rarely done, but apparently Derek had some more business to take care of in the city of Beacon Hills and despite Signing the Contract, he was reluctant to make the trip back to Triskele and come back to his new Bride’s town again later. Who could really order a Lord to observe tradition to its fullest?

At first Stiles was grateful for it, happy to spend one more night in his own bed, but after a while deep sadness set inside him. Now, he thought it would have been better not to be given that last taste of his sweet, sweet childhood. Not to sit awkwardly, still shaken and dazed, at his Father’s table accompanied by his new Husband, and listen to them talk about Stiles as if the he was not there. 

It wasn't something new, as a bearing boy he was often omitted in conversations, as girls were too. He had his purposes, he was important, but it wasn't his duty or role to make essential decisions or even make idle chit chat with important guests. At least not yet. When he gets older, prove himself, he’ll be able to take a more active role, but for now his role was cut down to following orders and traditions. So he sat there, in silence, listening to the plans for his future unfolding around him, trying not to squirm too much and draw attention to himself.

“I’m delighted you decided to take Stiles as a Bride. We desired a link to the Triskele for the longest time now. My boy’s not much, you've seen the side panels, but he’s intelligent and bright, well behaved too.”

“John, don’t belittle your treasure, he’s a wonder to look upon.” Derek politely disagreed, his gaze turning to the quiet boy. In all truth, he wasn't lying, he spotted the boy the instant he arrived at the Market. Cheeks flushed with excitement and a dazzling smile on his lips as he watched some performance, surrounded by other presenting Brides he immediately drawn Derek’s gaze. He was thrilled to learn of his parentage which would allow Derek to choose him, completing the main purpose of his visit to Beacon Hills. 

“Hope your Signing was fruitful. He was always on time with his Cleansings, his fertility should be now at its peak.”

Stiles felt his cheeks burn as he lowered his head. It was embarrassing to have his physiology so boldly discussed at the table. He wrapped his arms loosely around his middle. Could there really be a child growing in there already? He truly hoped not. 

He was due his Cleansing in two weeks. If it will not come, Stiles will be sure then. 

“There is no rush, John. I’m still young, I won’t be taking over for some years yet. I’m not looking to get him pregnant so soon, if it did happen today, so be it, but I won’t seek to breed him just yet. We have time.”

“You’ll do as you please, Lord Hale, he’s now in your authority.” His Father gave Derek an easy smile. “I trust you want to bed down with your Bride tonight, right?”

“If it would not be a bother I would rather take you up on an offer of a guest room. I need to have an early start and would rather sleep undisturbed.”

John grunted unhappily.

“If that is what you wish, I see no problem.”

“Thank you John. Tomorrow I’ll return around noon for Stiles and we’ll head to Triskele straight away, no dinner please.”

“Of course.”

Derek finished up his drink and pushed the glass away from himself.

“Are the Baths prepared?” he asked.

 

*o0o*

 

Derek took his Bride’s hand and allowed Stiles to lead the way towards the bathing chamber.

He knew John would order it prepared accordingly and discourage the servants from interrupting them so he could enjoy this Ceremony in peace. 

The boy led him inside dimly lit rooms with a crackling fireplace and slight fog of steaming water rising from an ornate bathtub standing in the middle. It was a classical in shape Ceremonial Bathtub, higher on one end, made of dark wood and painted stylishly in yellowish flowers and birds. Near to it stood a tall side table with a glass bowl on one side and washing cloth,soap and shallow, wooden basin on the other.

He took the youths trembling hand in his and moved him to stand close to the glass bowl and then moved in front of his new Bride.

Stiles head was bowed down, hands limp by his sides.

His new Bride was such a meek and shy little thing.

Derek pushed the boy’s head up with the fingers of his left hand, watching fascinated as the flickering light played on the golden peach skin accented with honey colored moles. Such beautiful imperfections. 

It took his Bride a long moment to lift his eyes up and look into Derek’s green irises, but when he finally did, the older man smiled brightly at him. He caressed the boys chin with his thumb the movement causing the pouty pink lips to part slightly. Exquisite.

Derek moved both hands to the back of the boys throat unclasping the leather collar and removing it along with the myriad of little chains attached to it, storing it in the glass bowl. He moved his hands all over the youths upper body undoing all bracelets and chains, tugging off golden rings from long, trembling fingers and finally lifting off the sheer tunic.

When he slid his fingers down Stiles stomach towards the bindings of his skirt he could feel the boys breath hitch, the muscle spasm under his fleeting touch. He slowly undid the knots holding the panels together at the front and when he felt it loosen he gathered the materials and lifted it away from the slim body, putting it on the side table. Lastly he undid the tight bindings of the pouch holding the youths penis and testicles, freeing the delicate organs.

He took a slight step back to admire the naked body before him.

Stiles was a real jewel. He was lanky, too slim, still a child in body, barely sixteen years of age. He was tall for a carrier, most preferred them little and helpless, but to Derek, who was tall himself, the boy was perfect. He would fill out, grow into his body given time. Even now he could see the delicious curve of his hips, full and round and oh so promising, small, perky nipples upon the still flat breasts that will one day fill out with milk. His Bride had much potential. 

He stepped in closer again, running his hands over the boys shoulders, down his chest, gently cupping over teats and then moving lower, over the stomach and sides to the round bottom, squeezing and fondling the delicious flesh. Fingers of his left hand slipping between the round cheeks and rubbing circles where the boy was still gaping open and wet with oil and Derek’s cum from couple of hours before. Slippery and hot and perfect. 

He withdrew his fingers with regret, that was nor the time nor place for such things.

Once again he took a step back, and went to fetch the washing cloth, lathering it with soap, wetting it in the basin.

He washed the boy from neck to toes, patiently, slowly. Eliciting low gasps and groans from the boy’s pouty, wide lips. Making the long fingers curl into fists when he moved the cloth between the youth’s legs, behind his testicles. 

Finally he knelt on the floor to wash the long, lean legs, touching teasingly behind each knee wishing for the night he could hook those knees over his arms and bend the supple body in two.

Finished with his task, he rouse again and reached for the wooden basin again. He took water from the big bathtub and poured it over the boy’s body, repeating the move until he was sure most of the soap was washed away.

Derek reached again for his Bride’s hand and assisted the boy in getting into the tub, helping him to sit down in the pleasantly warm water and rest his back comfortably against the higher side of the tub where servants hung thick white towels for comfort.

He knelt again by the side of the tub caressing his lovers hand.

Truthfully, that was the end of the Ceremony. He should now leave the boy to soak as long as he wished, relax in the warm water and forget of the hardships of this day, but he just couldn't. 

He was entranced, couldn't stop touching Stiles’ soft skin. 

He held the youths hand in his right one, fingers entwining, and let his left roam, moving it up the arm, over the collarbone, a thumb sliding over a dusky nipple. Petting taunt stomach and tightly held together thighs.

He looked up, observing Stiles face, searching for his gaze, his hand resting over one tight, fingers gently wedged between tense legs.

After a moment Stiles’ shy, flickering eyes met his and the boy relaxed, tights falling open in permission to the silent question.

Derek gave a soft squeeze to the hand he held and moved his left hand up the boys legs, fingers finding that hot cavern and smoothly slipping inside.

Stiles moaned sweetly, his head falling back but his gaze never broke from his Husband’s, body shuddering from the intimate touch.

Derek fingered the hot, contracting channel, his movement torturously slow and unforgivingly rough in turns, playing his Bride’s body like the finest instrument, eyes never leaving the hazel, clouded in lust and pleasure gaze. He felt the boy was close to completion, muscles trembling, hips twitching, so he finally paid more attention to the front of his lovers passage, searching for his hidden pleasure point and knowing he found it when Stiles’ body contorted in a spasm, lips opening up wide in a silent shout, and after a couple more gentle seizures finally loosening up in the warm bath.

Not even on the throes of orgasm did the hazel eyes close and Derek smiled softly at his spent Bride.

He kept playing with the tired hole until Stiles gave a low whine, his fingers squeezing Derek’s where they still held hands.

Derek chuckled softy and withdrew his fingers finally, letting the boy rest for a moment. They sat so for a long time, Stiles’ eyes slowly dropping, threatening with sleep, water turning lukewarm.

He squeezed the youth’s fingers reassuringly and let go of his hand, rising up and going to fetch a towel. When he came back he motioned for Stiles to get up only then noticing faint, white smears of the boy's release.

He wrapped the pliant body in the white, fluffy material and dried him up the best he could before changing the cloth for a long, white gown and putting unresistant arms in the sleeves, tying the belt.

“Go to you room and sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow.” 

He could see the boys shoulders sag, head dropping even lower. It can’t be easy leaving home so abruptly, with an older man and so many things expected from such a young person. He felt sorry for him.

He kissed Stiles forehead.

“Pack one coffer, anything you want.”

He smiled when Stiles head shot up, eyes widening in disbelief. 

“One, remember, and I won’t inspect it.” He said as a goodbye, walking out of the bathing chamber.

 

*o0o*

 

Stiles couldn't fall asleep, he’s was tossing and turning, restless.

He packed up his things, one full chest of everything he wants to keep, everything that cannot be replaced. He was surprised by his Husbands concession. Brides usually aren't allowed to keep anything tying them to their parents, their childhood days. It’s said it makes the transition to the new life easier, the Bride’s allegiance to his or her Husband to grow faster and stronger. 

Stiles can’t form an opinion quite yet. Maybe it would have been easier to just be swept away after the Market and not be stuck in this grief and uncertainty so long. He doesn't know how his new household will look like, his new family. 

He packs his Mother’s photo, the only image of her preserved, he packs all her jewelry and one pair of soft leather gloves she adored to wear. He can still remember how she would cradle his head into her skirts when he ran to her, embarrassed about this or that misfortune. She would always smile down at him and hold him close, saying it doesn't matter, that it’s all alright. 

He misses her very much. 

When he entered the bathing chamber with Derek he was both happy and disappointed at the same time. The servants brought out his Lady Mother’s Ceremonial Bath, the same one in which she was bathed by his Father on their first night.

His Mother, Claudia, she adored the wooden bath. It was painted in her favorite yellow-gold meadow buttercups and little hummingbirds over the mahogany, oiled wood and she took her baths in it as often as she could get away with it. Traditionally such a Bath was only used once, when the Bride was introduced to the household and then stored away. But his Mother was known for bending the rules in the privacy of their estate, and his Father loved her too much to be too harsh with her.

So Stiles thought Claudia would have been happy that the bathtub was used again, after so many years by her beloved son. It was also slightly embarrassing – he didn't want to really think about what his parents did in that tub… after he was brought to orgasm by his Husband while sitting in it. It just felt kind of… wrong. Also, he’d never get his own Ceremonial Bathtub now. It was once in a life time, so it did make him kind of sad. 

When he was younger he eavesdropped on young Brides and Spouses bragging between themselves on what their Tubs looked like, how wealthy and thoughtful their Husbands were. And what was Stiles supposed to say now, if someone asked him about his? That he was Bathed in his Mother’s old one? Nothing to be proud about in company and it might also bring shame upon the Hale house. So he’d just have to keep quiet, tell it’s a secret and smile sweetly, as he has always done when he couldn't share with the experience of others. 

He sits up in his bed, throws the covers away and stands up. He sneaks out of his room and down the stairs going to his Father’s study. There is a soft light underneath the closed door, just as he suspected. He knocks softly, and after hearing a muffled voice bidding him entrance he cracks the door open.

“Father?” He asks in a whisper.

He moves inside the room, closes the door behind himself and rests his back against it.

His father sits in an armchair by the fireplace, the fire almost gone, burned to the ground. If it wasn't for a small side lamp the room would be too dark to see properly in. The man is nursing a glass of whiskey, his chin propped up on his hand, deeply in though it would seem.

Stiles moves away from the door and lowers himself by his father’s feet, head resting shyly on his thigh.

It seems like forever before he can feel his Father’s hand on his head, caressing his short hair.

“He’ll do good by you, take care of you.”

Stiles squeezes his eyes tightly shut, feeling tears prickle under his eyelids.

“Didn't think he’d come to the Market. Didn't think he’s ask for you… You’ll have a good life with him, he’s a proper man. If I’d say no, like I promised ye, it might’ve been too late. And who’d you end up with? That Whittemore kid whom been ogling you like a starved dog a bone? He’d beat you black and blue soon enough, once he’s finished with your body. I've seen types like him. I've seen what he does to the whores in the brothel.”

Stiles can feel the tears stream down his cheeks in sadness but also relief. His Father does care, he does love him. He’ll still have to go away tomorrow once Derek is finished with his work, but now he knows why his Father broke his promise. He feels loved as he buries his face in his Father’s thigh, arms going around the men’s legs, holding tight.

“The Hales are a good family, they take care of their own. Just try and behave Stiles, I've been lenient with you too much. No running that mouth of yours.”

“I’ll be good, I promise.” He held on strong to his Father’s legs, feeling the man’s hand, heavy and warm on the back of his head till the first rays of sunrise.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Like all of you know - there *is* life outside of fandom and fanfiction and it can interrupt it all too much ==  
> Hope you'll like this new chapter! Merry reading!

As per his promise, Derek came back to the Stilinski estate at midday.

The carriage and horses were already waiting and after a brief hug and Stiles pressing an abrupt kiss to his Father’s cheek, at which the man frowned and glared at his unruly son, the Hale entourage was on its way.

Stiles was immensely bored during the never ending trip. Derek did not to ride with him, choosing instead to travel on horseback in the front of the column. Thanks to that small blessing Stiles was able to read from the small poetry book he smuggled in underneath his skirt, turning page after page until it went dark outside. Then he hid his small treasure and settled in to take a nap.

They arrived at the estate in the middle of the night, but despite the late hour all lights were burning bright in the entrance and all over the first floor and all the servants were gathered to welcome their Master and his new Bride home.

There were seven of them, three women and four men. Derek introduced all of them but the only person’s name Stiles could remember was Allison. More a girl still ,than a woman, but she was already the Head Cook and the one to run the estate until now. She was tall, with medium-long, dark hair now tied up in a neat braid and the only one smiling in the group, showing lovely dimples in her cheeks. Stiles felt they’ll be fast friends.

The introductions didn’t take long and soon Stiles was showed to a small room on the second floor, his precious coffer already inside along with a bucket of hot water and some washing clothes. He was informed that he’ll be woken up for breakfast and then he was left alone to his own devices.

The room a little bigger than his childhood one. A wardrobe on the right facing towards the room, a queen sized bed on the left with side tables on both sides. A little vanity table close to the two big windows, opposite the entrance to the room and a sofa chair on the right of the wardrobe. It was all made in deep hazel woods and white and red materials. With little yellow pillows on the bed, more decoration than useful items. Stiles loved it, it all felt very cozy despite being all posh and undoubtedly costly. 

He quickly washed up, changed into a long, white and almost see-through night gown he found in the wardrobe and settled in the big, soft bed.

 

^oOo^

 

The next morning they ate breakfast together in a small, private diner room close to the kitchens.

After the meal was over, Derek requested the boy’s presence in his study.

The room reminded Stiles more of a library than an working office, and Stiles was fascinated. He’d love to get his hands on all of those books! There was even a small fireplace and a lush, green sofa in front of it and he could just imagine sinking into the plush seats, covering his always cold feet in soft blankets and spending an evening or two reading.

But this time he was led to a big, wooden desk and motioned to take seat on the opposite side of Derek, the man taking his rightful place behind the mahogany workplace.

"We're going to go over some basic rules now. Breakfast is at nine as you noticed, dinner at three and supper at eight thirty. It doesn't change. I expect to see you at every meal, precisely on time. The only exception is when you're on your special days. We'll talk about them in a moment.” He sat more comfortably and then continued.

“I usually work in the mornings and go out in the evenings. My family's visiting once in a while, but usually it’s me going to the main property. In public and around my family and other servants you will call me Sir or Husband. You will only use my name in the privacy of a bedchamber. Do you understand?"

Stiles nodded his head.

"You will answer me when I ask you something. Your Father told me you usually have a hard time being silent, so use this opportunity to talk, because you won't have a lot of excuses to run your mouth around here."

Stiles swallowed hard "Yes, sir." 

"Better. You know my name, right?"

"Y-yes, sir, D-Derek Hale, sir."

Derek smiled at him.

"I've seen your full name on the paper contract and I'm surprised your Father allowed you to be named that monstrosity of a name. He must have loved your Mother a lot to be so lenient towards her. I hope you're not as willful."

Stiles shook his head no, and then quickly murmured a muted “No.”. What was he supposed to reply to that, really? He just hoped Derek wasn't hard on the punishments, well, he'll experience that sooner rather than later.

"As for misbehaving." Stiles shuddered hearing the cold tone "I will not set a specific list of punishments, I will correct your ways according to your misdeeds. But do not worry - I will not cause you permanent harm. Now, we will talk about you. What are your skills? From what I remember from your side panels you don't have a lot of them."

“N-No, Sir. I can cook pretty well, read and organize a household. I’ve run my Father’s estate s-since Mother’s death.” He swallowed hard again. “A-and I can sew a little, do some embroidery and, and I can do math, and my memory is very good, I can memorize poetry and sonnets an-“

“That’s enough.” Derek stopped his rambling. “I’ll give you time until tomorrow to think of some useful skills you’d like to pursue. You’ll meet me here tomorrow after diner.”

“Yes, Sir.”

"Going back to your special days. For the next month, maybe more, I will not take you to bed. If you're already pregnant, then I'll be thrilled to welcome the new addition, but as I have told your Father, I don't want to pup you soon. This time will make your situation obvious, as I was told you're soon due your Cleansing. I need to get to know your cycle so I won't Breed you unwittingly. "

“Yes, Sir.”

“So, when should you be fertile?”

“It’s supposed to be in two weeks, sir.” Stiles answered, blushing. “B-but, the s-stress, it, it could be a little late, o-or, early.”

His Husband nodded with understanding.

“Let me know when you start Wetting.”

Stiles blushed hard and lowered his head, embarrassed, to have his biology discussed so openly.

Bearing boys have their Cleansing every three months. It works mostly like a female period, but lasts just one day. There is cramping, the feeling of bloating and an allover feeling of being uncomfortable, moody and tired, but boys do not bleed during that time. It all happens inside their bodies. Some spotting may happen but it’s rare and sparse. But before Cleansing happens the boys’ are at their most fertile. Their holes get swollen, wet, self-lubricating heavily, nipples puffy and aching. It’s called the Wetting.

Stiles feels restless then, annoyed, easily aroused. It lasts just two days but he feels very awkward and self-conscious during that time, preferring to just hide away, stay in bed and ignore his aching body all through to the end of Cleansing. The chances of pregnancy are highest just before and during the Wetting stage, almost all intercourse end with a baby then, but the need to have sex is not overbearing, it feels like normal arousal, just lasts longer. It ends abruptly when the Cleansing starts happening. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Go on then, Allison will show you around. This month is for you to learn and settle in, use it well.”

 

^oOo^

 

Allison is cheerful and very helpful just as Stiles anticipated. She showed him around the mansion, explained that it’s just a part of the Hale property, that Master Derek chose to build a separate settlement a half an hour away by walk from the main building. The oldest of the Hale children preferred to live in peace and quiet and to not be disturbed by his parents vast cultural life.

So he had this two story mansion built near the forest and a small lake. It was just five minutes away from the back entrance and was bordering the gardens on one part and if Stiles so wished he was allowed to venture there. 

But back to the building. The first floor was reserved for a drawing room, a vast dining room that could as well serve for a petite ball room and four parlors. Those were the parts available for visitors, the kitchen and pantries were situated in the back, facing a private vegetable garden and bathing chambers that were separate from the main building but connected with a corridor as was popular at that time. 

The second floor hosted six guestrooms in the left wing and the master bedroom with an adjoining separate, smaller bedroom with a boudoir and nursery, on the other.

Stiles, as he was just a new Bride was currently residing in one of the guestrooms.

At the end of the first month, Stiles will host his first big party, a dinner for his new Family. It was called the Welcoming Feast, or just the Welcoming, and after that he will be moved to the right wing to reside close or with his husband. He’ll be officially considered Spouse, Wife to his Husband and recognized as such in company. 

Till then he was just a Bride, his contract could be revoked during this period if he didn’t meet his Husbands expectations. It rarely happened nowadays, but still, if it did happen then he’d be shamed and could not hope for a good and proper household anymore, or worse, end up in a brothel. 

So Stiles was going to do all in his power to be perfect, at least for that one month. He’d learn all he can on how to please Derek, ask all servants what does the Family enjoy as he won’t be able to meet them until the month is over and be quiet, efficient and well behaved. 

He smiled at Allison, directed their steps towards the kitchen to start to learn about his Husbands culinary tastes. His Mother always said that the way to a Husbands heart led through a full stomach, and then with a wink she’d add – and through a sated cock. 

 

^oOo^

 

Next morning Stiles woke up early and assisted Allison in the kitchen with the breakfast preparations. He’s more of an observer now than real help, as there are already two other people there – a woman named Kate and a boy around fourteen called Isaac. 

Later he’ll learn that the woman is Allison’s older sister, a Bride that was refused before her month was over and she found shelter in the Hale household, bringing Allie with her to keep her safe. As long as they remained in the service they were not obligated to attend Markets. Isaac also found a shelter here, an unfortunate boy whose Father tried to Wed him when the boy just started Wetting at tender age of nine. 

The staff also consisted of an older woman, Sandy and her two sons – Jake and Jamie in their late twenties and an middle-aged man, Tobias, the groundkeeper. 

Sandy took care of laundering and wardrobes, and her sons did any kind of work that needed to be done – from sweeping to taking care of horses and shopping trips.

The Household was small but it seemed very efficient.

Stiles smiled observing Isaac and Allison exchanging soft jabs and teasing comments while chopping carrots.

 

^oOo^

 

The day passed fast and before he knew it, Stiles was once again following his Husband into the big study.

They settled in the same way they did the day before, on opposite sides of the desk, Derek leaning back in his chair, fingers intertwined, resting under his chin, sharp, green eyes observing.

“So, how are you settling in?”

“Very good, sir, thank you. Allison is of great help to me, as is the rest of staff.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear it. You’ll make weekly reports to me starting next Monday. I’d like to hear about your progress. Now, tell me, did you think about your skills?”

“Yes, sir, I-I’d like to take up gardening and, and research. I’d like to learn more about math and history and customs an-“

“Stiles, I asked you to choose useful skills.” Derek scoffed. “Gardening I support, but as for the second one… You can read and write and do basic math already and I find it to be enough for you. As for customs, you should know all about them, but if you feel you’re lacking in this too, I’ll allow you access to some books about it, but that’s it. Instead of this… research, did you think about anything else?”

Stiles felt his cheeks burning and he lowered his head, looking at his hands, tightly wrapped up in his lap.

“I-… I could learn the piano…?”

Derek chuckled under his breath at hearing those soft, almost whispered words.

“You can neither sing nor dance. What makes you think you could master an instrument?” He huffed out, amused. “Besides, I don’t have the patience to listen to you play out of tune all day through.” 

“Painting? It’s quiet.” Stiles murmured defiantly, a little sarcasm in his voice.

“Watch your tone, boy.” Derek was quick to reprimand him. “Painting? I’m willing to at least let you try. Anything else?”

Stiles shook his head no, but quickly realized his error and murmured a “No, sir.” 

“Hmm, good, alright. If you think of something more you’d like to learn, something useful, come and we’ll talk about it.” Derek leaned back in his chair.

“Yes, sir.”

“I trust you’ll continue to successfully settle in, learn how this household has been run. You can make whatever changes you deem necessary or pleasing from now on. Any questions?”

“No, sir.”

“Dismissed then.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ***WARNING*** There is something potentially triggering happening in this chapter!!!  
> It happens after the first chapter break so you can skip the rest of the chapter --I'll add the tag later on--  
> If you want to know what'll happen beforehand and decide then if you want to read or not - check the end notes!

The day before the one month anniversary of his wedding Stiles was on edge. He was nervous, tense, his stomach cramping slightly all day, slowly getting worse as the sun set down.

 

Tomorrow was an important day, he’ll finally meet his Husband’s Family and relatives, be introduced as a Spouse, Wife instead of Bride. Show he was capable of running a household, of entertaining guests and being a good companion to his Husband. 

 

The last couple of days he spent cleaning and inspecting all the house, ordering the servants to do minor repairs, move this or that piece of furniture or even to dispose of some that were old and tarnished. 

 

He didn't see much of Derek during this month outside of meal times. And even those were brief meetings, mostly filled with silence and intense staring and sparse conversations. The first week Stiles got really nervous being under constant scrutiny and dirtied about a dozen table cloths at meals with spilled food and drink, but after a while learned not to pay so much attention to his husbands gaze and instead concentrated on which foods the man liked.

 

Observing each little frown when the man was presented with a new dish, watching the slightly raised eyebrows as his Husband chewed and tasted new flavors. He would murmur with content when something pleased him like chicken breast cooked over carrots with curry spice with celery flavored rice. But the frown would deepen when tasting sweet and sour duck stew served in cumin bread. 

 

Derek might not like all of Stiles cooking, but he never said a bad word about it and always finished his serving and the boy was very grateful for it. At first, he always asked Allison to prepare something Derek usually ate, just in case the man would throw his food away and demand a proper meal, but he ceased to do it after some time.

 

Now, after a full month of paying close attention to his Husbands tastes and after long talks with the staff, Stiles was confident in preparing all the right dishes for his Welcoming Feast. He had new table cloth sewn, ordered white, unassuming flowers to decorate the table as his Husband was not fond of too much decorations and preferred his surrounding more plain. But Stiles knew plain didn't mean empty and it all could be designed very tastefully to both please his Husband and his relatives and show Stiles’ skill at the same time.

 

All was set and done, silvers and crystal glasses polished, groceries collected and waiting in the kitchen and basement, wine selected and cooling in the well.

 

He prepared the best he could but Stiles still felt uneasy, hands with a soft tremor going through them. Nerves. He hoped his Husband’s parents accepted him and that Derek’s siblings would like him. He longed for a larger family, it has been just him and his Father for way too long. 

 

He placed one hand on his rolling stomach. Was it just stress? Did his Cleansing come later due to it, or was there a baby, just as nervous to be accepted and acknowledged as Stiles?

 

He gave a heavy sigh and moved around his room to blow out all candles, except the one standing high on his bedside table. He still liked to sleep with at least some light available from time to time, and this night he’ll leave it on, the warm glow comforting him in the dark.

 

He lied down in his bed, covered himself with heavy and warm duvet and snuggled into the pillow, closing his eyes. Whatever happened tomorrow, he was prepared. 

 

 

^oOo^

 

 

His sleep was uneasy, he tossed and turned, sweating profusely. Bending his body in fetal position to ease the discomfort in his stomach that seemed to grow from one moment to the other. He was trembling hard when finally a sharp pain, shooting from his belly button down towards his groin finally woke him up.

 

He felt feverish, frantic as he woke up, not even the almost burned out candle calming him down.

 

Something was wrong, something was oh so very wrong. All of his lower body hurt, and his tights felt wet. Too wet to be just sweat or slick…

 

He reached a shaking hand to his backside feeling hot liquid slowly trickling out of his hole, every touch painful against the swollen open flesh. His breath caught on a sob. No, no, nononono, it couldn't be happening. Not now, not to him, not… just no.

 

He threw away his covers and in the weaning light of the candle saw the bed soaking wet with his blood. Mouth opened in a silent scream, not making a noise despite all the horror, all the emotion building up in his head.

 

He lifted his left hand up, eyes widened in terror, watching the red liquid staining his fingers. 

 

Blood.

 

So much blood.

 

His breath was coming with puffs and wheezing in draws, tears streaming down his cheeks. 

 

His… th-the ba-… 

 

Derek must never know.

 

He-

 

Just…

 

Run.

 

He sprung up from the bed with speed and strength that only shock can give and tug off all the beddings from the bed, throwing them in the nearby corner of the room, crying even harder when he saw that blood soaked through to the mattress. 

 

He staggered back a couple steps, eyes firmly set on the blemish and then gasped hard as another wave of pain hit him unexpectedly, making his legs buck underneath him sending him to the floor. His fall was softened by the covers he discarded just a second ago. 

 

Stiles curled in on himself, biting on his fist to keep from screaming, teeth drawing blood.

 

The candle finally burned out.

 

 

^oOo^

 

 

Allison was always an early bird, from when she could remember she woke up at dawn. The first rays of sunlight touching her face and bringing a smile to her face. 

 

No wonder that she was appointed a cook, despite her young years she was dutiful and her dishes were always excellent. 

 

She got up and made herself ready to face the day. 

 

Today was special – the Welcoming – as it was called in shortened fashion. 

 

The young boy her Lord brought with him a month ago would now be a proper part of the household. Seemingly shy and clumsy youth that came out of the carriage turned out to be a nice and funny companion, bright and confident in his own way and always polite to the other servants.

 

Allison greatly enjoyed having him around and she really hoped the Hales would come to appreciate the new addition.

 

Stiles was brilliant with mixing up spices and coming up with new ways to combine different foods, and his orange-cranberry pie was to die for. She was sure that the female part of the Family would just love it, and, by association, Stiles.

 

She quickly set fire under the kitchen stove and put a kettle over it.

 

Putting fresh tea leaves in a pot, she started to prepare a small breakfast tray for Stiles, the boy will need some food in him before throwing himself in the last minute preparations.

 

When the water boiled, she poured it in the pot and covered the top. 

 

Taking the tray, she made her way up to the first floor, navigating the vast hallways with ease towards Stiles room. Knocking soft on the door and waiting a moment, but not receiving an answer, she smiled softly and pushed on the handle. Sleepy-head, she though fondly.

 

She wasn’t prepared for the sight before her eyes.

 

The tray fell out of her numb hands, glass breaking on the wooden floor, hot tea splashing on her sheens, but she didn’t even feel it or care.

 

The bed was bloody, empty of covers and of the lovely boy that should be sleeping softly cuddled in it. 

 

“S-Stiles…?” she whispered on a halting breath.

 

A broken sob came from her left, and then, just then did she notice the dirty bundle in the corner, only the top of the youths head visible in the cocoon.

 

“I-ah… I!” 

 

She couldn’t get more out, she didn’t know what to say, how to help, but she knew Master Derek needed to know, Dr. Deaton needed to know. Allison ran out of the room.

 

 

^oOo^

 

 

Derek ran. Seeing Allison, cheerful, stoic Allison waking him up with tears in her eyes and gasping for breath, terrified, only just being able to utter Stiles’ name made him fear the worst.

 

But not even that prepared him to see Stiles bundled up in bloody blankets, a small puddle of the same liquid trickling out from beneath his body. 

 

“Go get Deaton. Now!” he barked at Allison’s still body, wavering uncertainly in the doorway, making her wake up from the stupor and finally spring into action.

 

Left alone with the boy, he sighed deeply. So there had been a baby after all.

 

He wondered, maybe hoped a little despite all his words to the contrary. But now it was gone and Stiles was traumatized, laying limply in the corner.

 

Taking careful steps he walked up to the crouching boy and knelled, reaching out to uncover the youth’s head. Stiles was deathly pale, the color broken only by the red of his bitten, crimson lips and puffy eyes, crusted over with the residue of tears and snot, cheek marred by a reddish smudge.

 

Derek cradled the broken face, thumbs rubbing over hollow cheeks. 

 

Sixteen. Too young to marry, too young to conceive and too young to go through the horrors of adulthood, he thought sadly. 

 

He gathered the unresisting body to him, holding him close and rocking softly, resting his own back against the wall and dragging the boy onto his lap, he tucked Stiles’ head under his chin.

 

There was no words to say, nothing that would make this situation better, less painful. And he was never good with words, always saying the wrong thing in the most important situations, when it would mean the most. So he just held the listless teenager even closer, not saying a word, hoping to sooth him just with his presence.

 

 

^o0o^

 

 

 

They sat like that until the doctor arrived, Allison hastily cleaning up the mattress and then flipping it over with the help of another servant and putting on fresh linens.

 

Derek stood up, still clutching Stiles to his chest, when Deaton came in. He then laid the boy on the bed and after exchanging a look with the older man, he left the two alone.

 

Stiles squirmed and flinched as the doctor examined him, the experience humiliating and uncomfortable as hard fingers prodded and pushed all his tender places. But he didn’t cry. He had no more tears left.

 

When the physician stepped outside his room not even uttering a word to his patient, Stiles turned on his side and curled around himself, staring into nothing with unseeing eyes. 

 

He could hear soft murmurs outside, but couldn’t quite make out the words. Or maybe he just didn’t want to. 

 

It was all lost now.

 

His breath caught on a voiceless sob, bandaged hands pressing against still aching stomach.

 

Empty.

 

Just a month along so there was just blood and clots, all soaked up in the sheets and mattress, nothing left to hold or mourn or bury. Nothing to salvage of this broken marriage. He failed, failed so miserably at his most important task. There would be no Welcoming Feast, no more quiet breakfasts, no more soft praises, just sorrow and shame and…

 

The voices fell silent, turning into the sound of footsteps moving away from his door.

 

No one came in.

 

They left him alone.

 

Derek, Derek left him.

 

He waited a moment longer, desperately hoping someone would come back, Allison, or even just that other serving girl, Kate, that never talked to him and just shoot him hateful stares. Anyone, just so he wouldn’t feel so alone now, just him and his failure… 

 

But no one came.

 

The house was filled with complete silence.

 

On trembling, weak legs, he managed to stand up from the bed. He grabbed the thick towels that Allison placed underneath his lower half and the fresh quilt and moved to the corner of his room, as far from the bed and the other corner, the one he spent most of last night in, as he could. He placed the towels on the floor, trembling even more when he noticed that they were stained faintly red, his body still bleeding, flushing clean of the life it once carried. 

 

With a shaky breath he lowered himself on them, laid on his side facing the wall and covered himself up with the quilt. Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, he prayed for sleep to come.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *SPOILER*  
> Stiles is having a miscarriage.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the awesome comments!  
> Love you all! <3

Derek was restless.

 

He talked with Deaton some more in his office, the Medic further explaining Stiles condition and what restrictions and medications the boy will need to be put on to return him to health, but afterwards he was left alone with his thoughts. 

 

There wasn’t really a lot for him to do now for the youth, except let him rest and recover.

 

He stood up from his chair and went out of the study.

 

He’ll look into on his Bride, see if he’s resting or if he needs something.

 

 

^oOo^

 

 

When Derek stepped into Stiles bedchamber and found the bed empty, it sent a wave of chills down his back. But after a frantic moment he spotted the boy, again huddled in the covers against a wall. 

 

He could understand why the youth didn’t want to stay in that cursed bed.

 

Without a word he walked closer to the boy and crouched near him. At first the youth appeared peaceful but Derek couldn't help noticing the small frown marring the beautiful face, mouth drawn in an upset downward arch. He scooped the slight, still sleeping body in his arms and carried him out of the room.

 

The mansion was pretty big, he could choose another guestroom to deposit Stiles in but somehow it felt too cold, too impersonal and damaging to do that to the boy. So he carried him to his own room.

 

The room that after today, after the feast, would have become theirs either way. Deaton advised to let the boy rest, to not disturb him, so Derek advised the staff to stay away, but now he wasn’t so sure it was a good decision to leave the boy to himself.

 

Opening the doors with his elbow, he stepped inside the vast, main bedroom and promptly laid his burden on the soft sheets. 

 

He took out some towels from his trunk and placed them underneath the still body.

 

So much blood and it still kept coming. Deaton said it was normal and not to worry. Just make the boy drink plenty of water and then put him on red meat diet for some time. But despite the reassurances, Derek couldn’t help worrying watching the youth engulfed in deep sleep, body drained of strength, his skin an unhealthy shade of white.

 

He covered the cold body tightly with covers and blankets and went to the fireplace, putting wood chunks in and briskly setting it all aflame. 

 

With one more look at the body resting in his bed, he went out leaving the door slightly open. He’ll ask Allison to come up and keep Stiles company while he went and informed his family that there would be no Feast tonight. 

 

 

^oOo^

 

 

It’s been three days.

 

Three days since he lost the baby.

 

Waking up in a foreign room scared him at first, he didn’t even know how he got there, but looking around he quickly guessed it was Derek’s room. 

 

There weren’t many things in the room, a dresser, a closet. Small desk and a fireplace with a big, cozy couch in front of it, the big bed with side tables. All in subdued grey-brown colors and deep blue accents here and there, a pillow, a blanket. Simple, almost bare but still managing to feel comforting, made him think of Derek. Also there were some pictures in thin wooden frames sitting upon the mantle over the fireplace showing the man in company of other people.

 

Derek.

 

He hasn’t been to see Stiles since it all happened. Allison told him that the man carried him here himself, bid her to take care of the teen, and then promptly left the mansion calling for his horse. He still hasn’t come back.

 

Stiles spent his days lying in bed. He hardly moved, eyes stuck to the wall with an unseeing gaze. Ate sparsely and only when prompted to do so. 

 

He continued to hurt, but thankfully the bleeding stopped already. Allison wanted to help him wash each day, but he briskly refused. 

 

So each night she left him a bucket of hot water and some rags by the fireplace and he used them himself when she finally left him alone for the evening. It was a slow process, getting up, washing, but he just couldn’t bear to be touched or seen so intimately by another. 

 

Deaton visited him briefly each day, monitoring him but never saying a word to him besides that he was healing, that he’ll be fine.

 

But what did fine mean? Fine as in alive fine? Fine as in still a Bride fine? Fine as in… still being able to conceive and give birth someday fine? 

 

He was just so… lost. Will Derek send him away? It was his right to do so. If he’s not able to lay eyes on Stiles now, if he’s disappointed in him, if he knows Stiles is… infertile. He’ll surely get rid of him.

 

Burying his face in the pillow and hugging a blanket to his chest, Stiles felt like weeping again.

 

His Father would be so disappointed in him. 

 

He failed them all. Himself, his Father… his Mom would have been sad too. But she would hug him close and tell him not to worry, that he’ll be back home and she’ll take care of him and they’ll be happy together again. Everything would be all right… 

 

But she was no longer here…

 

Just like his baby…

 

“Stiles?...”

 

Stiles head snapped up hearing the familiar voice call his name, his eyes widening in complete surprise, a sob breaking out of his lips.

 

“Papa…!”

 

The older man rushed to the bed, sitting on the side and enveloping his son’s trembling body in a fierce hug.

 

“Oh Stiles…” he whispered cradling his boy to his chest. “It’s not your fault, it was never your fault! I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry I agreed to this marriage, you’re so young! Too young for all this. I’m so sorry, son…”

 

Stiles just buried his face harder against his Father chest, holding the man as close as humanly possible.

 

His Father was here, so it meant only one thing. Derek was getting rid of him. It was over. He was surprised it hurt so much, even after all that happened. He grew used to his new life. He came to look forward to the silent breakfasts, the long hours spent in the kitchens with the staff, Derek’s softly murmured prizes over the new furnishings or the way his face lit up when he served him cinnamon muffins for deserts. Derek loved his cinnamon muffins served with softly lemon tea. Who would now make the broody man his cinnamon muffins after Stiles was gone?

 

He cried harder thinking about it.

 

“He’s sending me away, isn’t he? He doesn’t wa-ant me anymore…” He hiccupped miserably against his Father’s chest.

 

“What? No!” The man softly pushed his son away taking the boy’s face between his palms. “He still wants you, you’re staying here, love.” He said wiping tears with his thumbs. “If that’s what you want, that is. Stiles, please, tell me now, if you want to go home there’s no power in this world that’ll make me leave you here, but, but if you want it then Derek still wants you here… Stiles?”

 

The boy closed his eyes briefly, trying to stop the tears and then admitted brokenly.

 

“I want to stay. I-I want… I want to be here.”

 

The Sheriff brought him against his chest again, rocking his body softly.

 

“Good. Good, okay.”

 

 

^oOo^

 

 

They stayed like that for a long time, until Stiles finally calmed down, breathing slowing down and eyes growing dry and tired, his body curling around his Father’s body, head in his lap. The older man caressed his still short hair as he used to do when the boy was small.

 

Finally Stiles broke the silence with a soft, tears-rough voice.

 

“If you’re not here for me… then why?”

 

“I’m here for you, Stiles, to keep you company, check up on you, comfort you. Derek sent for me, he thought me being here might help you.”

 

“Oh… Thank you.”

 

“No need to thank me, love, thank your Husband.”

 

Stiles murmured in agreement. There was just one more question that he needed answers for, the sooner he learned the truth the better. He pushed away from his Father chest to look him in the eyes.

 

“Daddy…?”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Did… did it… am I?” he took a deep breath “Am I… barren now?”

 

“No. You’re still fertile, you’ll still be able to conceive and carry to term. Deaton just said that there was too much stress and you’re too young. It happens, it’s not that uncommon. Just no one talks about it.”

 

Stiles sighed in relief. He was so worried…

 

He mushed his face against his Father’s chest, cuddling close again. His body felt heavy, his mind soothed after days of uncertainty and soon he fell into a deep, peaceful slumber while his Father continued to smooth his hand over his head.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see guys, I'm sorry!  
> Hope you'll enjoy this new chapter - Fair warning: not beta'd, might hurt your inner grammar nazi ;)

The next couple of days weren’t any easier on Stiles still.

He was weak as a baby lamb and could only manage to move around the room on his own, so he was cooped up in the four walls.

His Father spent most of the day with him, briefly relieved by Allison’s visits but he was all alone for night time and it was scary. He was no longer exhausted enough to have dreamless sleep, so he frequently woke up during the night bathed in cold sweat and the echo of that night. 

He had his one candle always on the bedside, but even its soft glow failed to sooth him now.

There was no books around for him to busy his mind with, make him think of something different than his current situation, and he feared to ask his Father for one. After all, Derek forbad him reading.

So he was completely unprepared when the doors to the room opened and his Husband entered the main bedchamber.

Stiles scrambled to his knees on the bed in pose of submission and apology.

"S-sir." he greeted his Husband. 

It was the first time since the miscarriage that he has seen the man. Derek’s face was serious and Stiles feared what it might mean for him. Did his Husband change his mind about letting him stay…? Will he punish him?

Derek nodded his head at him, not saying a word. He pushed the doors closed after himself but didn’t shut them completely and then started to walk towards the bed.

Stiles' eyes filled with tears.

"I'm sorry." He said, voice trembling and breaking, "I'm so sorry. I'll do better next time, I swear. I can try on the next Wetting, I can still give you an heir, doctor Deaton said I'm fine, that I can still bear, still carry to term, so please-"

"Shhh...." Derek interrupted his broken rambling as he came to stand before Stiles. He put one hand on the boy's cheek cradling it softly and sighting deeply when Stiles leaned into the caress with one more mumbled apology.

After a moment he moved his hand lower so he could tip the boy's head up. 

"Stiles, look at me."

He watched the eyelids flutter and finally lift up and he was met with the golden hazelnut gaze surrounded by wet eyelashes.

"Don't you ever apologize for that again." He winced seeing Stiles' eye shut again, face scrunching with pain as tears slid down his cheeks. He always said the wrong thing. Calling the boy’s name again, he waited for the sorrowful gaze to meet his own again. 

"It wasn't you fault, Stiles. You didn't do anything wrong, those things... " He swallowed hard "Those things happen. It wasn't your fault, never yours." He let go of Stiles and took a step back. "Can you walk?"

Stiles' tear stained eyes were lowered again, his whole body sagging down on the bed, but he nodded his head.

"Then come, stand up." Derek said lifting his hand to assist the boy in getting out of bed. 

He smiled softly when the youth slid his trembling hand in Derek's sure grip lifting himself up and putting his feet on the floor. Derek led him to the slippers laying near the foot of the bed, waiting for the boy to put them on and then not letting go of Stiles hand he led his young Bride out of the room.

Just as Stiles have done over a month ago, he led the boy down the corridors and staircases towards the back of the mansion. 

He smiled when he heard Stiles loud gasp as they entered the bathing chambers.

 

^oOo^

 

Stiles couldn’t believe his eyes.

Derek gave him his very own Ceremonial Bathtub.

It was lovely. Made out of cherry wood and painted in the same buttercups as his Mother’s has been but with the added white buds of jasmine and accented with couple lavender springs. He could even spot a dragonfly or two hidden in the design.

The shape was the traditional one, higher on one end and lower on the other, curved round, almost bulbous and quite large. Now filled to the rim with steaming water and the sides were covered in soft looking, white towels.

Stiles felt his lower lip tremble in emotion and he bit on it hard.

Derek must have been observing him closely because he put his thumb over Stiles mouth giving it a soft caress, biding him release the tender flesh. Stiles obeyed him and looked into his Husbands eyes, mouth opening as if to say something, but words have failed him.

Derek just smiled softly and led him deeper into the room.

He stood before him, just as he did so many days ago and relieved Stiles of his clothes lifting the long night gown up and over the boy’s head leaving the body bare before his eyes.

But he didn’t make Stiles stand this time, instead he led the led the boy to a nearby chair, also covered in thick towels and bade him to sit.

Stiles was very grateful for that, his trembling, weak legs wouldn’t have kept him up for much longer.

He observed as his Husband fetched a washing cloth, lathered it in soap and took a bowl of water in the other hand before coming to stand before Stiles again and then sinking to his knees before the boy.

Stiles felt his knees fall apart of their own accord to admit his Husband closer.

Derek put the bowl by Stiles feet, and taking the cloth in one hand, with the other he reached for the boy’s hand, holding it up as he started to slowly wash the soft skin.

He moved the cloth with sure but gentle moves over Stiles body until he got to his lower stomach. They both seemed to freeze then, both set of eyes studying the same patch of skin. 

If that night didn’t happen, there could have been a small bulge there.

After a moment’s hesitation Derek put his hand over the youth’s belly, his palm completely covering the painfully empty space. He caressed it, deep in mournful thoughts. You never know what you want, until it’s truly gone…

He startled when Stiles hand covered his own. He looked up and his gaze met Stiles tearful, honey gold eyes. It broke his heart to see his Bride… his Wife, so sad, so apologetic over a thing he had no power over. Led by an impulse he leaned in, laying a gentle kiss against trembling lips, feeling the boy’s salty, wet exhale against his skin. He deepened the kiss gathering the precious body close, pulling Stiles into his lap and holding him close, as close as humanly possible, feeling the embrace tightly returned.

 

^oOo^

 

Once again, against tradition Derek stayed with him after finally letting go of Stiles and assisting him in getting into the bath.

It was catharsis, exactly what he needed. 

The ceremony was always meant to be of purifying, washing away old life and starting one anew, with new husband, new family. That Derek organized for it now, after all that happened… And then his Husband’s gentle hand upon his lower belly – a forgiveness and a promise for the future in one gesture. It all meant so much to Stiles.

When Derek finally stood them by the door to the main bedchamber, Stiles didn’t want to let go of the warm, sure hand that held his.

He looked up at his Husband, all wishful thinking and hope.

"Will you stay?" he asked softly but with a dose of desperation "I can't... Not yet, but, will you? Stay? And just, just... With me?”

And Derek just smiled at him, a real, warm smile.

"You want me to sleep here, with you?"

"Yes." 

"Then yes, of course." His Husband said, lifting Stiles hand up to his mouth, laying a kiss against his knuckles and then leading them both to the bedchamber.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for such amazing comments!  
> You're awesome and motivating and I love you lotsa!
> 
> /unbeta'ed, so fresh!

It’s been two weeks since he received his Ceremonial Bath and since that day he kept his Husband in his bed. Always waiting up for him and with a hopeful gaze begging him to please join him in their bed for sleep. 

Even if Derek worked late in his study, Stiles would brew tea and bring it along with two cups to the library. He would pour the hot liquid and put one tea cup on his Husbands desk and the other he would take with him to the comfy couch in front of the always burning fireplace. He would cuddle underneath a blanket and watch the flames flicker while sipping on the tea. 

The first time in happened Derek just gave him a sharp glance, judging what Stiles was up to, but when the boy settled quietly he resumed his work and never commented on the intrusions. 

Sometimes Stiles would fall asleep waiting for his Husband to be done with work and then a gentle hand would pet him awake and help him up to bed. 

Once Stiles woke in Derek’s arms as the man was carrying him up the stairs.

He adored his Husband. 

The man was harsh of word and demeanor most of the time but he did have a warmer side, that he chose to show it to Stiles meant a lot to the boy. It meant a lot to the future of their marriage.

“What are you smiling about Stiles?” Allison nudged him gently in the side with a teasing grin.

They were baking cakes and bread for tomorrow’s breakfast and supper, the kitchen alive with chatter and bustling. Isaac was peeling apples and doing a fine job of it – every apple producing one, long and unbearably thin peel - while old Sandy was making butter. Jake and Jaime were plucking chickens in the corner making a total mess of it but laughing so loud and being so cheerful Stiles did not have a heart to reprimand them. Only Kate was sitting in the corner with a sour face. Not too unlike any other day for her, really, but still it was made painfully obvious she was not feeling part of the household. 

“Oh nothing Ally, wouldn’t tell you even if you begged!” Stiles replied to his friend.

“All right, keep your naughty stuff to yourself!” The girl laughed out loud making the boy blush, then she turned to Isaac. “Those apples ready yet, lad?”

Stiles smiled at them and adjusted his apron. It seemed to dig painfully into his waist even though he tied it lighter not a minute ago. His hips hurt, ached with every move he made today. He tried to hide his discomfort under a cheerful smile all day but he did caught Alli’s heedful stare a couple of times. 

His nipples felt tender, swollen too. He knew the symptoms very well and it made him both thrilled and fearful at the same time.

He wiped his hands on his apron and then untied the cloth and laid it over a nearby chair.

“I’ll be right back. Fold in the apples when Isaac’s done, don’t forget the cinnamon and orange zest!”

Allie smiled at him a little worrying frown on her face as he left the kitchen.

 

^o0o^

 

Stiles knocked gently on the doors to his Husband’s study and hearing the voice bide him entrance he pushed walked in.

He shut the doors closed after himself gently but stayed close to them rather than venturing more inside.

Derek was as usual surrounded by stacks of papers, writing this or that financial report and not looking up at his guest for the longest time.

When he did rise his head he looked with surprise and mild annoyance at his young Bride. Stiles should know better than to interrupt him before diner.

“Yes? What is it?” he barked out.

The boy lowered his head, blushing and fidgeting for a moment before bravely lifting his gaze.

“Could you please call on Dr. Deaton?”

That had Derek sitting up straighter in his chair.

“What happened?”

“Uh, I’m… I think I’ll Wet soon… and the Dr. wanted to know, so…”

They both fell silent for an uncomfortable moment.

“Send Jake to me when you deem him finished with his tasks in the kitchen.”

“Yes, Sir.” Stiles curtsied and quickly left the room.

Once outside he leaned his back on a wall, arms wrapped around himself. 

When he indeed started to Wet, would Derek breed him? Probably not. They still did not have this conversation about this part of their future. Or was Stiles to suppose previous rules applied? That he won’t be bred until Derek was ready for children and from what the man said before would not happen for the next couple of years? Or did his Husband maybe change his mind? 

Would he still sleep in one bed with Stiles during this fragile time? He got so used to sleeping in the warm, tight embrace… It would be hard to be parted from it now, but if his Husband did not wish for children now, he probably would be too uncomfortable to share bed with Stiles when he was Wetting and then Cleansing.

He sighted mournfully and giving himself a mental shake went back to the kitchens.

 

^oOo^

 

Deaton arrived late in the evening and after a brief talk with Derek he took Stiles upstairs to one of the guest bedrooms to examine him.

Stiles really hated the old man.

He barely spoke to him, never explained what he was doing, and why, never sharing the results of his exams with him. 

According to Deaton, he got to know it all from his Husband if the man was inclined to share.

The only concession that was made was the doctor handing him a pouch of herbs with an order to drink regularly twice a week and the instruction on how to brew them and that was all.

By smell alone Stiles could tell they were meant to disallow pregnancy to happen. Every bearing male or girl were taught about this herb. Some were made to drink it, others strictly forbidden. 

Now he knew his Husband’s plan for him.

 

^oOo^ 

 

He started his Wetting soon after breakfast five days later.

The moment he felt the telltale wetness seeping out and staining his underclothes he excused himself from the kitchens and quickly went up to his bedroom and locked the doors.

He changed to his nightgown and lined his undergarments with heavy bundles of cloth and lied down on the bed.

With eyes closed and body as relaxed as he could manage he got ready to wait it out and not get bored to death before it all passed.

 

^oOo^

It was easier said than done. 

He received dinner and supper in his room, and Allison even stayed for a short while with him, chatting and trying to distract and cheer him up, but soon after the last meal of the day he was once more left alone.

And it was horrible.

Allison informed him that Derek will bed down in one of the guest bedrooms during Stiles vulnerable time, and so, he would be left in peace and quiet.

He hated it.

He ached and leaked and it was just too similar to… that night.

Tossing and turning, he could feel the panic rising in his chest, tears threatening to tumble down his cheeks.

Gritting his teeth and making up his mind, he stood up. With trembling hands he put his dressing gown on and bracing himself for his Husbands displeasure he ventured out of the bedchamber.

The house was dark and quiet, everyone were seemingly already deep in slumber. But Stiles knew better. Carefully maneuvering his steps down the staircase he was please to find a glimmer of a light underneath the doors to Derek’s study.

He gently pushed the doors open and peaked inside.

His Husband was sprawled on the couch, one hand holding a glass of amber-colored alcohol and swirling it around and around, watching the flicker of light pass through.

It took him a moment to notice the new presence in his sanctuary.

“Stiles!” His tone was sharp, almost angry at first, but he quickly mellowed out seeing the sad face. “What’s wrong? Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

Stiles wrapped his arms around himself.

“I can’t sleep. It’s… it feels too much like… like that night.” He ducked his head down “The slick… it feels too much like… like blood.” His voice broke uttering those last words.

Derek remained silent, gaze stuck in wall far before him. Then lifted his hand up, motioning Stiles closer.

“Come here.”

He guided his Wife to sit on his lap, tucking the boys head underneath his chin and wrapping arms around the trembling body, hand running through his Wife’s short hair.

“You just can’t be left alone, can you?”

Laying comfortably against his Husband’s chest till now, Stiles felt something cold spread through his chest, like a bucket of ice cold water thrown on his heart. He pushed himself up and away from his Husband’s no longer welcoming body.

“I can be by myself just fine, Sir.” He seethed through his teeth and tumbled ungracefully to his feet. He would have marched away towards the doors but a heavy grip around his wrist stayed his movement.

He turned slightly to glare at his Husband and gave one more harsh tug to try and free himself, useless as the man’s strength was far greater than his own.

Derek didn’t speak, nor did his eyes meet Stiles’ for the longest of time, then he let go of the wrist he held so strong.

“Go and fetch Allison to keep you company.”

“I don’t want her company! I don’t need her care and attention!” Stiles seethed, eyes brimming with tears again. “I wanted you! I want your care! I need you…!” he choked “ I need you to make me feel not afraid!” He finished on a broken sob and then turned sharply, heading swiftly toward the exit of the study, but before he managed to reach the doors strong arms enveloped his body, gathering him close. Derek’s face pushed against his neck, harsh breaths on his cheek.

“I can’t Stiles, I cannot hold you tonight.” Derek whispered, words firm but voice sounding broken “Not tonight when you’re just so… tempting. I promised myself not to force you, not in this, not now. But by Spirits Almighty, you smell so good, your cheeks look so flushed and if I dared…” He let go of his Wife’s trembling body. “Go, be by yourself or fetch Allison to keep you calm. You cannot be in my presence tonight.”

But Stiles didn’t even let him turn away, stopping the movement by throwing arms around his Husband’s shoulders, pushing trembling lips against Derek’s lips in a desperate, wanton kiss.

And after a moment’s hesitation the kiss was returned.

They soon ended up back on the couch, Stiles straddling his Husband’s lap head tucked into beard covered throat peppering it with clumsy kisses as the man’s hands traveled his body, making the boy’s hips grind down in the search of more pleasure.

He allowed his Husband to pull up his nightgown, untie is undergarments and leave him totally bare.

Derek was enthralled. He wished, oh how he wished to sample the luscious body again since their contract was signed, but now, when he got to know his Wife better this desire transpired to something more. He wanted to pleasure the boy, wanted to do good by him, by them both.

Taking what he wanted would be so easy now, the boy would not resist his advances, he was encouraging them more and more with every passing second.

He delicately pushed him away, making to boy straighten his back, showing all his naked body to Derek. He watched the light from the fireplace dance over the flushed, freckled skin, over long, graceful neck, down the collarbones and curve around the softly risen breasts and perky nipples. He let his hands settle on the rounded hips, fondle the supple tights and then sink one hand underneath the boy’s little penis and testicles, fingers wandering towards that hot, wet cavern, slowly sinking in, making his Wife gasp loudly.

Stiles’ hole was puffed out, stretched and overflowing with hot slick. He was so wet that Derek’s moving fingers made all those delicious sounds that had the boy flush deeply in embarrassment and trying to hide his face all the while his hips were grinding down, trying to push the fingers deeper.

And Derek did, pushing and prodding and teasing, he massaged the clenching channel, looking for that one spot to bring his Wife to completion. 

With a screamed scarcely muffled by a hand, Stiles came. Trembling, hips undulating, one hand painfully squeezing Derek’s shoulder.

And with a deep gasp he feel forward, cuddling to his Husband’s body as the man proceeded to mercilessly tease his hole all through the powerful orgasm. 

It was heaven for Stiles. He felt so good, so light and perfectly exhausted. Smiling as he ran his fingers all over his Husband’s large, still covered chest.

What a picture they must make! A debauched, naked Stiles lying on his completely dressed Husband! His soft giggle stopped abruptly when he noticed that he was indeed the only one totally debauched and pleased, Derek’s hard erection still digging into his stomach.

Not thinking much least his new found courage would leave him, he moved his hands lower, undoing his Husband’s trousers and with an unsure hand reaching inside.

“Stiles-“

“Shhhh”

He silenced his Husband, and reveled in the man’s gasp when his trembling hand surrounded the hot, heavy flesh in the man’s trousers.

After a moment’s hesitation, with the other hand he reached under himself, gathering his own slick and then lathering Derek’s organ with it, easing the movement on the impressive length. 

Derek came in record time.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ta-dah! Took me something close (over?) two years, but here I am back with a new chapter! <3  
> A small one, but notes on the following ones are made so I'm pretty optimistic about them :D
> 
> Sorry you guys had to wait such a long time! Muse abandoned me, but now she's back! (and I hope staying!)
> 
> Thank you all for all the comments you left me across the years! They kept the story in my mind and helped to warm my heart and lift my soul <3 Thank you thank you thank you!!! <3

Derek sighed contented. 

Soon after bringing Derek to orgasm, his lovely, naughty Wife fell asleep on him, head tucked into his neck, warm breath coming in puffs on his skin.

He caressed the lean back, briefly fondling the round perfect globes of the boy's backside and then running his hand up again to cup the back of his head. 

Stiles has been through so much in the short period of time they knew each other. Truthfully, being with Derek has brought him more sorrow than joy, but still, the boy managed to find some fondness and want for him in his heart. 

When he called on Lord Stilinski to come and attend to his son after the miscarriage, he was sure the boy, given the chance, would leave. Lord Stilinski had much to lose in the event of Derek refusing his Bride - because that's how it would have been seen by the society, not as Stiles leaving, but Derek refusing him. Yet, he still made sure Derek understood, that if his son wanted to return home, he would damn well return home and damn the consequences. 

The man was fierce and demanding but it was obvious he loved his son to pieces and would do anything for him.

Derek supposed that only the fact he came from a wealthy, respected family, granted him Stiles for a Spouse so easily. 

And now he started to see what a jewel Stiles really was. 

It took him some time and he still stumbled, but the boy rose from the tragedy that's befallen them, he didn't shun Derek, didn't push him away. He seemed eager, wanting for Derek's gruff company, unafraid to show himself at his most vulnerable and seek Derek to lean on his strength. 

Derek wasn't completely yet sure if those actions were perfidiously planned or completely genuine but Stiles' behavior stirred something in him, something primal - to be stronger, better, more reliable. To earn and keep his Wife's trust and respect and... Maybe even love. 

He cradled the warm, pliant body closer to himself, reaching out for the blanket that magically appeared in his study along with Stiles' late night visits, and he covered the cooling, naked body with it. Adjusting his grip, he stood up with the boy safely cradled in his arms and moved to exit the room.

He carried Stiles up to their bedroom and laid him down on the bed, removing the blanket. 

Undressing quickly, throwing the clothes on the floor, he laid down next to his Wife and after a brief moment of hesitation he spooned his lover's body, wrapping the peacefully sleeping boy in his arms.

*

Stiles Wetting lasted full three days, and Derek was surprised that they both had enjoyed the time so much.

He abandoned his usual schedule and spent the days either in the bedroom or the study, keeping his lovely Wife’s company and indulging in each other’s bodies.

Stiles was a wonder to behold when he took and gave pleasure, he was shy and mischievous at the same time, waking Derek up snuggled to his side, head pillowed on the man's chest as he fisted and played with Derek's cock, hand dripping again with the boy's own slick.

Derek returned the favour later, waking his Wife up from one of the many slumbers by spooning the boy, his hard cock rubbing up and down the wet valley between the perfectly round butt cheeks, head of his cock nudging teasingly against the swollen open hole. The closest they got to penile penetration. 

He fingered the boy, fucked him long and thorough with the practice wooden tool Stiles pressed shyly into his hand at one point and kissed him long and deep throughout the Wetting.

It was perfect. 

And when Stiles’ body quickly crashed to the Cleansing on the fourth day, he helped the boy clean up from the leftover slick, marveling at how the stretched out, puffy and swollen hole could shrink back to the tightly furled pink rose so quickly. 

He saw the fear in the boy's eyes when he guided them back up to the bedroom from the bathing chambers, fear of Derek leaving him again and he felt his heart ache for his Wife. He pulled the boy to himself and pressed a soft, unassuming kiss to the boy's pouty lips. 

“I'll stay, don't worry.”

And so, they spent another day in bed, Stiles curled to his side, head pillowed on his chest as he read a book. The boy shifting uneasily once in a while as he clutched at his aching stomach, pressing a heated bags of dry peas to his lower stomach and between his legs to help with the cramping.

Stiles was writhing and gasping more as the day went on and Derek felt really sorry for his Wife.

He laid the book away and turned to his wife, petting over the short hair gently.

“Is there nothing to be done with the discomfort of your Cleansing?”

Stiles looked up at him, eyes tired and weary.

“Medically - no. I tried some herbs now and then but never did I notice any change, for better or worse. It just needs to take it course it seems. But, you could… uh, no, doesn't matter.”

“Tell me.”

“Would you… read to me?”

Derek fell quiet.

“I'm sorr-”

But Derek quickly quieted him down and picked up the book he was reading, starting where he dropped of. The boy had been really good the past couple of days, a reward was in order.

*

A week later, Derek was sitting in his study catching up with the paperwork he ignored in favour of spending time with Stiles. He didn't regret it, it was time well spent, but he now had a lot of work.

A bit grumpy, he looked up when a knock came to his doors. He bid his guest entry.

Derek couldn't hide the little smile that tugged on his lips as he saw Stiles peeking cautiously in. 

“Please, come in.” Derek encouraged. He was very pleased that even after the intimate closeness they shared over the last couple of days, Stiles remained respectful of the boundaries of their positions, that the boy wasn't demanding and pushy, unassumingly of any additional favour.

His Wife stepped into the room and sat in a chair opposite Derek's chair, a little tremble in the slim body indicating nervousness. That made him wonder for what his spouse would end up asking. If it made the boy feel so emotional, surely it wasn't anything proper nor easy for Derek to grant.

“What is it, Stiles?” he asked, voice maybe going a bit too harsh.

Stiles bit his lip, eyes downcast for a moment before he lifted them up to face Derek.

“I-I wondered if it would be alright to inquire about the Welcoming Feast?”

That took Derek by surprise.

Truth to be told he almost forgot about it. 

“Are you ready for it?” Even if the Welcoming have happened as planned it would be hard on the boy. He was sure his Father would be pleasant enough, but he couldn't say the same for his Lady Mother and his Uncle Peter. Especially not after the miscarriage.

The rest of his siblings, Cora and Railey he could not judge accurately. Laura, unfortunately would not be attending as she was married and it would be improper for her to attend a Welcoming Feast with her being technically no longer a Hale. Derek was sure she’d call on them soon after the Welcoming though.

“I took the liberty of ordering new curtains to the dining room, they should arrive by the end of the week. Besides that, I'm quite happy with the rest of the decor. The florist assured me he can procure the flower arrangements with a two days notice and the groceries can be collected just as fast. I decided to adjust the menu just slightly…” 

Stiles was wringing his hands and Derek felt bad for him.

“Come here.” He said pushing away from the desk and motioning for his Wife to come to him.

Dutifully, Stiles listened. Getting up and adjusting his skirts he came to Derek and was promptly guided to sit in the man's lap.

“You're probably more than aware it won't be an easy and pleasant happening. But I want you to know that neither my Mother's or sibling’s opinions will change my decision of taking you to my household. You're secure here.”

Stiles face went through an array of emotions before he settled on a small, hopeful smile.

“Thank you, Derek.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments are love!


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